


salvaged

by jxshua



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Schizophrenia, Violence, you will hate me for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxshua/pseuds/jxshua
Summary: wonwoo is irreparably broken.but mingyu still loves him all the same.





	

“Aren’t you afraid?”

He mindlessly whisked the straw in his drink, watching attentively as the ice cubes clinked against the glass. The vagueness of the question caused him to furrow his brows, but the lack of emotion in his features otherwise was eminent. A tingling scent of caffeine and light chattering noises drifted into his senses. He caught the straw between his lips, took a long sip, and allowed the bitterness to seep past his throat.

“Afraid of?” he muttered in a smooth, thin voice, begging for the other to elaborate further on his question.

His friend possessed a fragile, attenuated figure, but a contrastingly healthy complexion. Minghao, or so his name tag suggested, sat across the round table with his hands folded on his lap and some steaming coffee before him. The question required some extra processing before execution. He had to place his words together carefully. Mingyu was emotionally detached, crumbling from the very core of his being. Reality only seemed so faint in his eyes.

“Being in love,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second, “with someone broken,”

His eyes were vacant, void of the usual glint of glee Minghao was so accustomed to seeing. It was terrifying. Mingyu gradually lifted his gaze, slender digits curling against the glossy surface of the table. Did he fear? Being in love with someone who had been smashed beyond repair, broken without return and crippled on a lonely, winding path with no end? Anyone would be. But that little ounce of fear lingering inside of him — he grabbed onto it with his life on the line and made it blossom into something more beautiful.

_“Wonwoo, no!”_

The need to protect.

It hurt like thistles and needles, and his hands bled incessantly all day long, but it was worth it. He flung his arms around the younger to draw him away from the kitchen drawers, firmly holding on as his lover thrashed about violently against his frame. The raven haired male was screaming in a prolonged, piercing tone at nothing in particular, going insanely haywire with fresh blood smearing his palms. A sharpened knife fell from his grip, clanking loudly against the marble floor beneath their feet.

 _“Leave me alone!”_ he yelled furiously, streams of tears smudging his pale sunken cheeks, _“Get the fuck away from me! You sick bastard, die! Fucking die!”_

His eyes, bloodshot red and quivering from unspoken fright, glared into a corner of the room, where a shadowy figure stood with a hideous taunting smirk spreading across the deformation of his facial profile.

 _“I’ll fucking kill you!”_ he bellowed, desperately attempting to writhe away from the other’s arms with formidable strength.

But Mingyu was adamant, refusing to release him back into his little world of hallucinations. He simply burrowed his face onto the juncture of the younger’s neck to whisper tender comforting words, smoothing a hand along his back.

_“It’s me, Wonwoo. Remember? Mingyu. It’s Mingyu. You’re safe with me. No one is going to hurt you,”_

Mingyu.

A serene, familiar voice wallowed forward from the back of his head. He flinched, cold perspiration soaking into the articles of his clothing. The young male gritted his teeth, grappling about in the air helplessly as muffled moans of pain reverberated in the room. A film of darkness washed over his visions, and his heart began throbbing rapidly against his ribcage. _How could you love a mess like me?_ He slumped back into Mingyu’s arms in exhaustion.

_“Mingyu?”_

_“I’m here, Wonwoo. You are home. You’re safe with me,”_

_“I’m home?”_

_“Yes, home. You’re home,”_

The shadow was fading into the distance, swallowed by the darkness. He rolled his head back, lashes fluttering shut as dried tear tracks and blood smeared his cheeks. A cosy, warm sensation enveloped his malnourished physique and he relaxed instantaneously, movements going slack. Mingyu exhaled in relief, eyeing the splotches of blood staining the floorings. A wave of nausea hit him. He was standing on Wonwoo’s blood.

“Yes,”

His eyes wandered about in the room, drifting aimlessly over the piles of customers crowding in the café. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken Wonwoo out on a proper date. A fancy restaurant, crimson roses and dress shirts. Wonwoo would love that. But they couldn’t. He was prone to danger. The world was perilous, trapping him within impenetrable, enclosed walls. He was lost within his footsteps, going in circles, always searching for an egress that never existed. Always lost in nowhere.

“But I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid that he’ll keep rejecting his reflection. I’m afraid that he won’t be able to learn to love himself, scars and all. I’m afraid that he won’t ever be able to shake off the memories haunting his shadows,”

“People who are broken, they love with every bit of their soul. They fear for the shattered remnants of their heart, but they’ll hold it out to you wholeheartedly, ready to love with every fibre of their being. They are roses in disguise, Minghao,”

“And I’m not going to let him go,”

Minghao allowed his words to sink in, a slight discomfort worming into his chest. Love was a very foreign emotion, something he had struggled to repel from the coldness of his heart. It was a battle of sacrifice and pain, one which he was unwilling to fight again. He pushed back a dark resurfacing memory, tears bubbling in his throat and demons roaring inside of him like flames. A loud scream resounded in his mind, and he inhaled sharply while stretching out for his glass.

“Roses have thorns, Mingyu. And they can hurt you, bad,”

“And yet they are still considered to be the most beautiful of all flowers. We are all flawed in our own ways, Minghao. A prick or so isn’t going to steer me away from him,”

“A prick or so?” the male raised an eyebrow with a hint of astonishment in his tone, “Wonwoo raised a blade and almost killed you. _Twice_ ,”

His pulse began throbbing in his ears, blood pumping in adrenaline at the recollection of the memory. His lover, with insanity roaming in his youthful orbs and hallucinations morphing into his line of sight, snatched up a blade and tried to knife him in broad daylight. Mingyu’s figure had startled him greatly, configuring into a memory he didn’t wish to recall. A repulsively grotesque figure, tattoos and scars aligning the broken flesh of his biceps, burst forward before him with a bone chilling chuckle.

He instantly snatched up a pair of scissors sitting by his hip and slashed it through the air, satisfaction grappling his insides when a scream rang in the silent air.

 _“Why didn’t you die?”_ his words came out in a choked whisper, shaky and fearful, _“You should have died. Why?”_

The pale youngster struggled to catch his breath like a goldfish out of water, his airway stalling and suffocating him. _“Why do you always keep coming back to me?”_ he screamed, _“You died! You sick fuck, you fucking died; they killed you!”_

_“Wonwoo,”_

His chest pumped heavily for a moment, constricting in agony, eyelids fluttering shut and eyes rolling back in exhaustion. A sense of serenity invaded his senses and gurgled in his chest, presenting a pearl of tranquility that caused the storming waves inside of him to subside. The images fixated before him gradually perished into ashes and debris, and a handsome build began developing before him. Horror and dread dominated every fibre and nerve of his being when he finally arrived to the realisation that he had slashed his boyfriend across the face.

Mingyu stood rooted at the spot, eyes driven unnaturally wide open with solid terror and trepidation, as glass smithereens gathered at his feet. His breaths were rendered uneven, warm spills of crimson watering past his cheekbones.

That was the first episode of his hysteria.

“The doctor pronounced him unfit to live amongst the healthy a long time ago but every time a knock came on your door, you took his hand and ran from them,“ Minghao expressed, “You can run, yes. But you can’t keep running forever,”

“He’s fine living with me, _Minghao_ ,” he snapped snidely with condescension lacing his words, “If they take him away, he’ll never be able to make a full recovery. Those monsters are just going to destroy him piece by piece. I’m not going to leave him in their hands; I am more than capable of taking care of him by myself,”

He stood up abruptly, the mahogany chair screeching backwards in impact. His friend did not flinch nor utter a single word in response, eyes simply lingering on the stray droplets of caffeine staining the table. An unusual sensation clouded his chest cavity. It was akin to pain, but far more numbing. What was it?

The raven haired male found some struggle in buttoning up his clothing, progressing albeit rather slowly. Despite it requiring tiresome and painstaking effort, he was determined to accomplish such a simple task by himself without the assistance of his lover. A loud indefatigable ring resounded through the thin walls of the apartment, sending a strike of shock through his chest, and he hurriedly smoothed out the creases of his crisp shirt with quivering hands. He then proceeded towards the entrance to ease the ring.

A handful of paramedics, cladded in sickeningly clean cut paper white uniform, had invited themselves before his home. A young nurse with princely dark hair stepped forward to offer him a warming smile, clipboard shoved against his breast. “Wonwoo,” he greeted with a tip of his cap, “It has been a while,”

“Jeonghan,” he hemmed apologetically, “Indeed it has,”

And there they decided to conclude their pleasantries. “Are you ready to leave?”

Wonwoo glimpsed over his shoulder ambivalently, and a vehement wave of sorrow crashed into him. The scent and comforting presence of his lover was suddenly amiss and he fought hard to hold back a waterfall of tears. He needed Mingyu here, assuring him that everything will be alright. Interlacing their fingers and pointing out the intricate constellations embellishing the universe, and admiring with him the way they gleamed like diamonds in the smoky light of the Milky Way. Reminding him that life was beautiful.

He thrusted out his arms towards the nurse, eyes screwed tightly shut as he despairingly pushed the thoughts away deep into a corner of his heart. “Please,”

Jeonghan understood, with a drop of sympathy, and nodded at his fellow coworkers. They instantly got to work, chaining his pencil thin wrists together and stringing number tags around his limbs before leading him past the threshold of his little safe space. He glanced back just once more, rejecting the regret swimming in his chest, before he was expelled from his own home indefinitely.

“Goodbye Mingyu,”

The stunning young man sent his friend a glare of despise, indignation and fury consuming his throat as he stormed past the groups of patrons in the café and trudged down the streets in the biting wind angrily. How dare he lectured him on what he thought he knew was right for him and Wonwoo. Wonwoo is perfectly safe, in their tiny little rundown apartment away from the dangers of Seoul. He clenched his fists, and leaped into a nearby cab to get home as quickly as he could.

“Jeon Wonwoo? Never heard of him,”

“You’ll get to know him soon enough, Chan. Quite a sweet young boy. He was sent in by the general hospital three years ago, suspected of suffering from schizophrenia after he attacked his boyfriend in his sleep with a knife,”

“What’s his history?”

“Abducted in 2013, physically and mentally abused by his captor for a year. He was bounded in a basement with his neck broken when the police busted into the house to arrest his kidnapper. The man apparently died while retaliating against the police. Four bullets right to the chest. Couldn’t survive,”

“And the boy?” the intern browsed through the leafs of the record.

With his eyes laden with fatigue, Mingyu entered his home with a yawn and the clinking of keys. He muttered a nonchalant “I’m home”, toeing off his faded sneakers before advancing with the realisation that — it was too quiet. The male halted his footsteps, furrowing his brows in confusion. Nothing. He couldn’t hear the usual padding of feet, the water running in the kitchen or the rustling of papers being tidied. Just pure, hollow silence reverberating through the comfort of his home. Wonwoo was gone.

“He refused to speak to anyone for a month. Though it took alot of medication and therapy, he eventually agreed to open up; but there were too many gruesome experiences to list, some of which he could not bear to share,” the nurse raised a paper cup filled with unpleasantly brewed coffee to his lips.

They stood a brief distance away from the glass, watching as the medics strapped the patient to a chair, with an assortment of coloured electrodes connected to his body.

“Why is the hospital so adamant on taking him in?”

“He attacked his boyfriend on more than ten separate occasions, occasionally with a knife or blade. Wounded an innocent passerby once when he was out on a stroll. The doctors then determined that he cannot be allowed to wander on the streets under any circumstances. But his lover has been quite...protective of him. Natural, I suppose. Having had his lover taken away from him and returned in a completely defiled and irreparable state,”

Every room was undeniably void of human life; he had searched every crook and cranny but there were no signs of his lover. He carded slender digits through his fluffy bleached locks in frustration, feeling jittery and iffy. God, where could he have gone? Wonwoo had been under explicitly strict instructions not to leave the house unless he was with Mingyu; they both clearly knew the implications of that, and the consequences, if he disobeyed. He slammed into the bedroom, sifting through his things and stilling when he finally found a lone sticky note sitting on his pillow.

‘I'm sorry, Mingyu. I’d rather die than hurt you any longer. You’ll be safer without me. Please don’t come looking for me. I’ll come home when things are better. I love you, Mingyu. Be happy.’

“How long would he be here undergoing treatment?”

Jeonghan shrugged.

“Schizophrenic patients never really recover. Too much emotional trauma. We’ll have to do whatever we can to help him if he is to be discharged soon, of course,” he blinked, “Oh hang on, I’m buzzing,”

He sandwiched his phone between his ear and shoulder, furiously scribbling notes from observation. “Jeonghan speaking,”

“Yoon Jeonghan. Where the fuck is my boyfriend at?”

 

Mingyu sprinted into the hospital in a frenzy, making a beeline for the counter. He slammed his identification card over the record books and enunciated breathlessly, “Jeon Wonwoo,”

The nurse offered him a cautious look, skimming through the updated names in the system as the visitor tapped his finger against the counter impatiently.

“7082, sir,”

He vanished without a trace, leaping into the nearest elevator available. After anxiously scrambling down crowded hallways and diving past teams of medics, he eventually found the said room and slammed his fists against the concrete entrance which barred him from entrance.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” he shouted.

His voice echoed down the lonely corridors, stirring up quite a commotion amongst the peaceful patients residing in other rooms lining the hall. Said male flounced towards the door without a moment to spare, visibly taken aback by the sight of his boyfriend as he pushed open the window and curled his fingers around the bars with fright and surprise flashing over his eyes.

“Mingyu? I thought I told you not to come looking for me!”

“Why did you leave? Why?!” he yelled, “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be stuck here if they decide to keep you?”

“It’s better than hurting you,” he whispered, his arm going outstretched for the other, “Please go, Mingyu. Please,”

Wonwoo’s hand felt so cold and alien against his. He was so isolated, away from the warmth of home. He didn’t belong in this prison.

“I don’t care,” Mingyu shook his head frantically, intertwining their fingers together, “How can I be happy without you? Baby, tell me. How can I wake up without you in my arms again? Wonwoo, please understand. You have to come home. I can’t live without you. Please, ”

The younger furiously chewed down on his lower lip, drawing blood, as streams of tears burned stains onto his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his throat clogging up with tears and bile, “I can’t do it. I’m so sorry,”

A loud voice boomed in the corridor, thundering in displeasure. “Sir, you can’t be here!”

They turned their attention away from one another, only to find a pair of security officers strutting towards Mingyu, with a meek apologetic Jeonghan at their hip. The nurse lowered his head.

“I’m really sorry, Mingyu. Maybe another time. Wonwoo needs some time alone before his next therapy session,”

“Let him go,” he gritted, striving with much effort to wrestle his way out of the security’s arms.

“You know I can’t do that,” the princely young man sighed gloomily.

The visitor was then unceremoniously dragged away and Wonwoo let out a distraught scream as he dolorously clung on, thin phalanges still tightly interweaved with his lover’s.

“No, no, no! Mingyu, I’m sorry! Don’t leave me, please,” he sobbed out incoherently, “Don’t hurt him. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“I’ll be back for you,” he shouted, equally as stubborn with his refusal to release the other’s hand, “I promise,”

With one hard yank, Mingyu was parted from his lover and hauled away from the scene. Wonwoo thrashed about behind the door, arms flailing between the bars as he let out chilling screams, begging for them to not hurt his lover. But he knew they couldn’t care less, and he eventually found himself slumped against the door, drained of all strength and energy. The boy fell into a heap on the dusty ground, thighs pulled up against his chest. He pushed his head back against the concrete with a hiss of pain.

Ruthless claws drenched in venom were dipping a path past his chest and shredding him apart from inside. Tendons and ligaments were snapping, veins were spilling from his heart and the mental destruction was fierce; it was an internal battle he could not hope to conquer. His visions began wavering, gushing forth a sea of haunting shadows. He shrilled. The pain was incomparable to death itself, and yet he was persevering. He coughed out a fit of depraved laughter, eyes wild with fear and deprived of sanity.

“You’re here for me again,”

A gust of deliriously sharp pain bubbled up in his chest, blocking his airways and causing him to double over in agony. He peered up, face scrunched up in distress. A figure was materialising before him once more, with reptilian eyes and features as abhorrently repulsive as he had remembered. He frenetically swung his gaze around, searching for an item of some sort to attack his captor, but there was none. And here he was again; helpless, alone.

Suddenly, the boy was nineteen again, limbs bound together with ropes, and blood and fresh wounds staining his face. He smashed his fists against the concrete door, losing himself entirely in a dimension of non existing delusions. Help, he cried, please help. But help never came. Help never came for a long, long time. His hands instinctively went for his throat and he squeezed with abnormal force, large bruises imprinting themselves on his brittle flesh. Feeling light headed and nauseous, the world spinning before his eyes and the apparitions growing faint, he collapsed.

His body laid limply on the ground, unmoved.

_“Wonwoo,”_

 

Mingyu had always been so charming, with his drop dead gorgeous, accentuated features and bold blue hair. Hours had passed since their high school graduation had came to a conclusion, vermillion hues were settling in the skies and the seniors were slowly emptying themselves out of the campus. He brightened up when Mingyu leaped up before him, slightly out of breath with a lopsided tug of his lips, and a baseball jacket hanging from his shoulders. Wonwoo clutched onto the straps of his backpack and offered him a smile, curiosity lighting up his face.

_“What’s up?”_

“Wonwoo,” he thrusted out a bouquet of twelve freshly picked blooming roses, wrapped in brown paper and wine red ribbons, and declared, _“Be my boyfriend!”_

His heart jumped in surprise at the statement, and his eyes grew comically wide for a moment. The student’s jaw went quite slack, and he was obviously quite befuddled by the request. _“You want me to be your...boyfriend?”_

Mingyu managed a small frown of disappointment. _“You don’t want to?”_

 _“Of course I want to!”_ he answered a little too quickly, clearing his throat as a pinkish tint powdered his cheeks, _“I mean: yeah, sure. Why not?”_

Mingyu was ecstatic, all smiles and grins. He reached for the younger’s hand, fluttered a series of kisses over his knuckles and Wonwoo could still feel them to this day. The phantom of his lover’s lips lingering against his skin, filled with immense affection and love. He would never forget it.

_“You shall henceforth be known as Kim Wonwoo, and it would do me great honour if I could watch you walk down the aisle on our wedding day,”_

He laughed amusedly. _“A little too early to be talking about weddings, Kim Mingyu,”_

_“Soon, my love. Our hearts and souls shall soon be united as one before a congregation of lifelong friends, and we shall thereafter fornicate and adopt little guppies—”_

_“Oh my god, I hate you already. Shut up,”_

Where did all of that happiness went? Where did it all go so wrong? A tear of shame escaped his eye as he thought of his wounds, and he wondered how Mingyu could ever bring himself to love him even after that disgusting ordeal which had left him permanently scarred for the rest of his measurable years. The young male, no longer capable of sustaining himself in consciousness, shut his eyes and permitted darkness to engulf his little pathetic world.

_“What do you think about a nice array of baby’s breath and lavenders for the wedding?”_

A frigid breeze swept along their feet, dried leaves and frozen puddles crunching under the strength of their rubber soles. Their pinky fingers were firmly entwined, swinging back and forth leisurely. Wonwoo breathed out a puff of cold air, bearing a fond smile at the thought.

 _“You’re so hasty, love,”_ he commented, _“Don’t worry, we still have a long way ahead of us,”_

_“We do. Will we be able to love each other forever and ever?”_

He hemmed.

“Yes, Mingyu. Forever and ever.”


End file.
